could not pass my cloak on to whatever person she wanted it to go to, could she? You said cloaks choose, just as eagles choose reeves. Otherwise you could turn any criminal into a demon with the power to kill but not be killed. So if the cloaks wrap spirits at the behest of the gods, how could any corruptible person become a Guardian?'
'Is there an incorruptible person, Marit?'
'Aui!' she murmured, with a weary smile to answer his. 'Of course there is not. At best, some are less corruptible than others. For instance, what of you, Jothinin? You are a man who strikes me as having little arrogance or vanity, and a cursed gentle way of laughing at yourself, and yet it seems you have walked as a Guardian for so long that a story from your youth has' become one of the ancient tales we chant at festival time.
'The brigands raged in,
they confronted the peaceful company seated at their dinner,
they demanded that the girl be handed over to them.
All feared them. All looked away.
Except foolish Jothinin, light-minded Jothinin,
he was the only one who stood up to face them,
he was the only one who said, 'No.''
He flicked a hand up in a gesture that softly mocked himself. 'I am sure I cannot understand what I ever did beyond drinking and gossiping and gaming. None could have been more surprised than I, after the brigands killed me for refusing to hand her over, to awaken and find myself wrapped by a Guardian's cloak. I was always the most frivolous of men.' He studied her. 'Where are you going with this, Marit? You hunt like a reeve. Your questions quarter the ground as you seek your prey.'
'Is that not the best way to proceed?' she asked, surprised, and then realized he was laughing at her, as he laughed at everything. Perhaps it was the way he had managed to thwart corruption all these years. 'Listen. When Lord Radas punished Hari, he had a guardsman stab him. He did not do it himself. Why not?'
'The cloak of Sun wields a staff shaped as an arrow, but its point does not pierce physical substance. Because we are ghosts, in a way, we cannot wield a blade against living flesh. Our staffs — your sword, my staff, Kirit's mirror — sever spirits from flesh, it's true. But we can only judge humankind and then only when guilt is laid plain. We cannot judge the other children of the Hundred, who are veiled to us. Therefore, we cannot ourselves strike or kill another Guardian. Not alone.'
'We can kill another Guardian if a majority of the Guardians' council agrees. And we can be hurt by the swords and arrows of others. It's just that our cloaks — or the land — will heal us if we are injured. Isn't that right?'
He seemed about to reply but she raised a hand as thoughts cascaded. Too agitated to stand still, she ran to the shore of the sea, where water drowsed along the flats. She kneeled at the edge to pull a hand through fingers of salty foam left where the waves had receded after the turbulence of the night's storm.
The cloak of Night had always been present at the Guardians' council, so Jothinin claimed, and if he was indeed the Jothinin sung of in the tale of the Silk Slippers, then he was unimaginably old. Yet the first time Reeve Marit had met Lord Radas in Uiyat, he had been a man. He had passed judgment on criminals as fairly as he might; possibly he had striven for justice and mercy. The second time, when he had ordered his men to kill her and Flirt, he wore a cloak. He was already corrupted.
Night had traveled for a few days with Marit, testing her — Marit saw that now — to see if Marit, too, might be corrupted. In a way, it was good to know Night had preferred to see her killed. Which meant the. cloak of Night had waited, great round of years by great round of years, probing to seek awakened hearts she could corrupt: Radas, Yordenas, Bevard. Even Hari.
The sun rose over the salty inland sea. Beyond the rim of the high plateau lay a vast gulf of air. Shimmering into the west stretched the endless desert, an outlander country where no human could live. Into that wilderness the cloak of Mist, then named Ashaya, had walked, and an outlander girl with demon-blue eyes had found what she thought was a dead body and stripped the cloak from it, hoping to help her tribe survive. The girl had not died then. She died much later, in a sandstorm, on a southern desert. Somehow the cloak had found and claimed her. In time, it brought her to the Hundred.
Marit walked back to the overhang, where Kirit was teasing the conies off the spit and splitting them with her knife. She had a neat, practiced hand. She licked her fingers and looked up at Marit. She ventured a quirk of the lips that was, perhaps, an attempt at a smile. Not friendly, precisely, but inclusive.
'The cloak of Night. Do you know her name?' Marit asked.
Jothinin shook his head. 'I never did. She was best loved, you know. Always pleasant. Always helpful. Always cheerful. I never would have thought she would walk into the shadows.'
Marit smiled as she might at a child she wanted to reassure. He had that quality, that she wanted him not to fret, even if she knew he would. 'Sometimes those who seem strong prove to be
weakest. And those who seem weak or light-minded and foolish, are in truth strongest of all.'
He shrugged away the compliment.
'How did you discover the plot to corrupt the Guardians?'
He looked at the irregular rock wall and the shadows and light that spilled in ripples along it. 'To my shame, I did not. I walked from assizes to assizes, pleased to bring justice to the Hundred. I was oblivious to the signs of trouble among the other Guardians. Ashaya was the one who warned me, before she fled.'
'How did Night corrupt the others?'
'All I know is what Ashaya told me: false words and exaggerated suspicions. Whispers that some Guardians were not doing the work of the gods and must therefore be eliminated. Too late she realized she had herself become as corrupt as those she thought to guard against. She fled the Guardians' council, warned me, and left the Hundred. After that, I disguised myself as an envoy of Ilu and avoided the altars and my winged horse. An envoy of Ilu is a humble man, easy to overlook. I blame myself for not seeing sooner what was going on.' He sighed, shoulders drooping.
Kirit said, 'Are you hungry, uncle? Here is meat.' Then, after a hesitation, 'And for you, Marit.' She set down her knife and popped a strip of meat into her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and considered. 'A little tough. Not bad.'
Jothinin straightened as he forced a smile. He tore meat from a steaming carcass, watching Marit. 'You have a plan. I see it in your face.'
'Why did the cloak of Night turn against the Guardians? Why then destroy the other Guardians? Does she truly want chaos? Murder? Rapine? Villages burned and children orphaned? It seems unlikely, shortsighted, messy. I talked with her, traveled with her for a hand of days. She did not strike me as shortsighted or messy.'
'We must judge them,' said Kirit unexpectedly, 'not by their words but by what they allow to be done under their authority. The headwoman of a tribe who shows hospitality and generosity is pouring those qualities into the heart of the tribe over which she sits in authority. Likewise, a headwoman who is greedy, who is already rich but allows her people to steal from those who are weak and poor, who steals children and sells them into the hands of demons, she will poison her tribe long before they become aware that a sickness has overtaken them and ruined their herds and children.'
T may wear a Guardian's cloak,' said Marit, 'but in my heart I'm still a reeve. I'm going to Iliyat and Herelia to investigate. To see if I can find out who Night is, and what she wants. If we understand her, we may be able to figure out how to defeat her. Also, I must find Hari, and convince him to join us.'
'Is it wise to split up?' asked Jothinin.
T won't leave you, uncle,' said Kirit.
'Lord Radas is busy conquering Haldia,' said Marit, 'so it's unlikely they have more than one or two. cloaks out searching for us. Meanwhile, you must find the cloak of Earth. It will be easier for me to convince Hari to join us if he is sure he is on a side that can win.'
T am pretty sure the cloak of Night holds his staff,' said Jothinin. 'The spear of Twilight, which penetrates from day into night and from night into day. Even if he joins us, we still cannot pass judgment if he does not hold his staff. Consider this, Marit. Once we begin to pass judgment in the Guardians' council, we are then doing to the other Guardians exactly what the cloak of Night did to those who came before us.'
'What choice do we have?' she retorted bitterly.
'We have to fight,' said Kirit. 'It is worse not to fight.'
